Mistaken Identity
by Naseka
Summary: Joseph isn't who he seems to be. No, it isn't a silly nonsense story R & R.
1. Prologue

Prologue:

The mysterious man dressed in black ran faster in attempts to escape the police, he had good reason to run - the twenty thousand dollars missing from the bank was in his bag. A "no good thief" is what everybody called him, he'd been stealing ever since he was two. Sure, it started off all innocent with him stealing lollypops from grocery store shelves, but as he grew older he went for bigger prizes – toy cars, clothes, money. He made his first major steal when he was fifteen, a car in the parking lot. He was never caught. After that he couldn't help himself, he thought he was so good that he wouldn't never get caught…he was right.

He dodged through the streets and noticed the sounds of the police cars becoming louder.

That's when he met her.

She was standing in front of the limousine looking at her watch when she grabbed his arm, "There you are, Joseph, where on earth have you been?"

He looked around himself to make sure she was talking to him, "Umm…excuse me?"

"Rupert will be furious if we don't get back in time."

She put a hand on his back and tried to seat him inside the limo, he grew weary, "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get you into the car because we are late and must be going."

He looked behind him and saw a man identical to himself being pushed onto the ground and handcuffed, he decided to duck into the car with the stranger, as it seemed the safer option.

The lady climbed in beside him, he had no idea who she was, as he had only been in the country for less than a week, but he felt an instant connection with her. She put up the privacy screen and held his hand, he started shaking – who was she?

Turning his head to see what was happening to the man he now realised was the Joseph character she had been talking about, he saw him being thrown into a police van and driven away. Guilt swept over him, but there was no time to think about that, he'd just gotten away with armed robbery, he had to be relieved.

"Hey lady, where are we going?"

"Joseph, I've told you time and time again that my name is Clarisse. We are going back to the palace."

"The palace? Is that what you call your house?"

"Are you feeling alright?" She asked, putting her hand on his forehead.

"Yes."

"You don't seem to be as…on the ball as you usually are."

"My apologies, rough day."

"I'll say. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Yes, I'm just a bit confused."

"As are we all."

She looked at him with concern and kissed his cheek, "Are you worried about tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"The ball…"

"What ball?"

"The one we've been planning for weeks."

He eyed the large rock on her finger, "Are we married?"

Her expression went dull, "I thought we weren't going to discuss that."

"It's a yes or no question."

"No. I told you, I can't leave Rupert, I…"

She went silent and turned away from him, a tear threatening to fall down her cheek. He sat there in bemusement – what exactly was going on between this woman and that Joseph person? Some elicit affair?

"I'm sorry if I've hit a sensitive spot…umm…Clarence…uh…Clarisse "

"I just hate myself for doing this to you."

"Doing what?"

"Leading you on when I know we can never be together."

He decided to find out as much information as he could so he wouldn't look like an idiot later on causing him to blow his cover.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm married! I'm a queen for heaven's sake!"

He realised then what was going on - she was a queen having an affair with her employee.

"Have we slept together?"

She started tearing, "You bastard. How can you not remember? Was I just another one of your little conquests?"

She put the privacy screen back down and yelled to the driver, "Stop the car!"

The tires screeched to a halt and the woman opened the door, "Get out!"

"I'm sorry, I'm not quite feeling myself today, of course I remember. It was that night in…uh…April…"

She smiled and shut the door, "Drive on."

It took ten minutes to get back to the palace, which she spent leaning against his chest. She was nice and warm and smelt like daisies, he could get used to this.

* * *

This should only be a short story – five chapters at most. I just had this idea earlier on this morning and decided to write it. In the next chapter, we'll jump straight to the present, so you'll have to use your imagination as to what happened when he arrived at the palace and so on, because I think I've done enough of writing about their past.

Oh wow, this is my 20th PD story (OMG).

R & R of course.


	2. Chapter 1

After Clarisse and "Joseph" moved out of the palace, all their mail was forwarded to their new mansion. The real Joseph had been writing to Clarisse every week since he was locked up and every week he would get no reply. "Joseph" always checked the mail before his wife could get to it because he knew about the letters and always took them out before she had a chance to read any of them. He read them himself, however and decided that this week's letter could not go un-answered;

'_16th of June 2005._

_I heard through the grapevine that you married your head of security. I don't know who he is, but he sure is lucky to have you. Something's been plaguing my mind though - why him and not me? Is he better looking? Does he have a better package? If you had come down here and told the cops that I didn't kill those people or rob the bank or commit any of the other crimes I was supposed to have committed, you and I probably would have married instead and been much happier. _

_I'm just writing to let you know that this will be the last time you will ever hear from me. Every time you don't reply to my letters, you break my heart again. Well I'm sick of it! I've been debating hanging myself in my cell, but I won't do it if you come and see me or write or something. I'm planning to do it on the 1st of July. Am I important to you? This test will tell me once and for all if you still have any feelings left for me._

_Love Joseph.'_

"Joseph" knew that he had to tell her about the switch. He had doubts about telling his new wife that he wasn't who she thought he was. He'd managed to keep it a secret from her this long and thought that it was time to set things straight, only he wasn't quite sure what her reaction would be. She might get angry, she might leave him. God how he didn't want to lose her now. But perhaps she would be fine with it if he told her the truth, after all it was he that she had been with for the past 25 years, maybe she would go easy on him. He found it strange that she never noticed the swap, or maybe she did. Maybe she found this Joseph more loveable and understanding, or maybe she had just been waiting for him to tell her himself, but then why did she marry him?

Guilt swept over his body as he walked up to the bedroom door, _'This will be the day I tell her'_ he thought.

Who was he kidding? Every day was the day he was going to tell her, he had just never found the right moment. It's hard to just come out and tell a person, a person you're in love with, that you are an impostor not worthy of their love. Once again, he decided that it wasn't the right moment to tell her and he backed away from the door. If he had a Genovian dollar for every time he'd been in that situation, he would have been able to retire a long time ago.

Hours later he found himself lying naked in bed with the woman he'd fondly come to know as Clarisse. Like every other night, he felt guilty, guilty because he was manipulating her, guilty because their whole life together had been a lie, guilty because he'd landed an innocent man in prison. He often thought about that man, he'd gotten life in prison on account of the fact that the man they thought he was had committed three murders of innocent people. That was another thing he felt guilty about, those people. They probably had loving families who were expecting them to return home with the grocery shopping or the newspaper.

Draining the thoughts from his mind, he looked at the sleeping beauty in his arms, he'd always thought how lucky he was to have her. Never in a million years did he expect to find someone like her to spend his life with. She was the reason he never left the palace after 'the incident,' as he calls the time she accidentally saved him from the police.

His eyes shifted to the ring on his finger, it wasn't his ring, it was the man in the cell's ring. It belonged to him, **she **belonged to him.

He'd been over these thoughts so many times, but it was only recently that he'd been starting to lose his mind. He had to tell her, he just had to, the man would die if he didn't. But not now, tomorrow morning, when she would be refreshed and ready.

NO!

Now was as good a time as any, if he left it until tomorrow, he'd probably decide not to tell her at all. Yes, now was the time.

Very gently he shook her awake, "Darling?"

Fear shot through him as she opened her eyes, would this be the last time he'd see her up close?

"Why are you waking me up at this time of night?"

"Clarisse, I have to tell you something, something I've been keeping to myself for a long, long time."

"Can't you tell me tomorrow morning?"

"No, I've been putting it off for too long, I have to tell you now."

"Make it quick."

He sat up and stared at her, obviously she wasn't going to pay attention while she was still lying down with her eyes closed.

"Could you please at least look at me while I speak?"

An annoyed sigh escaped her mouth as she sat up and pulled the blanket over her breasts, "Happy?"

"Yeah. Darling, what I'm about to tell you may have a huge impact on how you see me. I want you to listen to everything I have to say and then you can speak."

Tiredly she nodded her head and yawned.

"Twenty-five years ago, you went in to town with a man called Joseph Mintaro."

She pointed at him and raised an eyebrow, he shook his head, "At the same time, a man called Steve Lyell was holding up the National Genovian Bank. After he'd put the money in a bag, he ran out of the bank and bumped into you."

"I don't remember any-"

"Please, my dear, allow me to finish. After he bumped into you, you pulled him into the car and drove off."

"No I-"

"Clarisse! Seconds later, Joseph was arrested and thrown into prison for crimes he didn't commit."

"Lovely story, darling, is that all you wanted to tell me?"

She lay back down in the bed and closed her eyes.

"Darling, what I'm trying to tell you is that I am Steve. I held up that bank, I got your beloved Joseph arrested and I lied to you for twenty-five years pretending to be him!"

Her head shot up, "Well I don't believe you."

"It's the truth! I don't know how it's possible, but we're identical strangers."

"As I said, lovely story, goodnight."

"It's not a story!"

"If you are this 'Steve' person, then where's your proof?"

"You want proof? I'll give you proof, wait here."

He ran down to the basement and pulled up the strip of carpet. Underneath it was a locked door, which he opened with a key and climbed into the room below. It was like a second basement in his eyes, a sanctuary. Clarisse didn't know about it. He never let her down there, it's where he kept his chest of memories. There was enough evidence in that chest to have him sentenced to death - weapons, loot, plans, but most importantly the letters. The ones Joseph had written to her from his cell, the ones that never reached her and were instead, taken out of the postbag and locked away, never to be read again until now.

Pondering if he really thought he should show her, he read through one of them;

'_21st of April 1983._

_Cupcake, I know you must still be angry with me, which explains why you haven't yet written back, but you know in your heart that I didn't do it. Any of it! You were with me at the time the first murder took place, remember? Won't you please come and be my alibi? You don't even have to tell them what we were doing at the time. Anything you say could get me out of here, you know it! I don't even know where they got the supposed evidence that I did any of it._

_Oh well, if you change your mind, you know where to find me._

_May my love be with you,_

_Joseph.'_

He then randomly picked up another;

'_2nd of August 1986._

_I still think about you every day, do you think about me? I wonder what you must be thinking while you read these letters, I'd like you to at least reply to one so I know you still care about me like I care about you._

_I'm still waiting for your replies to my first fifty or so letters, I know you're getting them because I've been writing the address very neatly. I wish you would come in and see me, I miss you so much._

_I love you, Cupcake._

_Bye.'_

And another;

'_19th of May 1990._

_I want out of here! I can handle the fighting, the rape and the torture, but you not caring about me is worse than all three put together! All I ever wanted was a letter, a sign that you still cared about me! Why won't you grant me that? We used to be so close, but now look where we are. Whenever I see your face on the television I cry and remember the time we declared our love for each other. I guess that's never going to happen again. I honestly don't know why you haven't made contact with me after all we've been through together, why not write and tell me why? Is it punishment for something? Like the time I ran over your daffodils with the car? That was an accident and I apologised for that on multiple occasions. Uh oh, I think I'm in trouble with the warden again, so I'll say goodbye here.'_

"Joseph" picked up the two hundred odd letters that the real Joseph had written to her over the years and carefully carried them upstairs. He dumped them on the bed and noticed she was asleep again. His eyes wandered over to her face, she was peaceful, she was calm, she would be angry at him if he woke her up again now. Discarding the letters on the floor, he climbed in beside her and held her from behind. After reading those letters she would probably never let him hold her again, he had to enjoy it while he could. Of course, he didn't have to show her the letters, but that would mean death for the lonely man in the cell who had done nothing wrong. He'd already put that man through enough and he didn't want to be the cause of his death.


	3. Chapter 2

To clear something up:

When I type "Joseph", I'm talking about the Joseph we see in the movies. When I write Joseph, or the real Joseph, I'm talking about the one in jail.

* * *

"Joseph", the early riser, could not wait any longer for his wife to wake up – he had to find out what her reaction to the letters would be. He wanted to know if she'd still love him, he hoped she would. Carefully he pulled the sheets back and ran his hand along the side of her exposed body, her skin seemed so soft. He kissed it and she shivered – he knew she was awake.

"Mmm…I need warmth…Joseph put the doona back on…"

"Darling, I need you to take a look at something."

"What?"

"Some letters."

"From who?"

"From Joseph."

"Oh god, not this again."

"Clarisse you need to learn the truth, I've been lying to you for twenty-five years."

"And you've been annoying me for twenty-five seconds, go back to sleep."

"For god's sake, get up!"

He walked to the bathroom, got out the sprayer and setting it on single line spray, he aimed it at her back and started pulling the trigger. She immediately jumped out of the bed and ran out of the room laughing – he enjoyed times like these. He picked up the letters and took them to her study, placing them on the desk and leaving the room. Clarisse was hiding from him in one of the twenty-two bedrooms that lined the top floor of their mansion, "Joseph" would never find her there. But alas, to her surprise he did, "Clarisse."

She giggled and slid out from her hiding place behind the cupboard, "What?"

"I need you to be serious for a moment."

"Ha!"

The glare of his eyes was intimidating, "Oh, did you say serious?"

"Yes."

Slipping his hand around her waist, he led her back to their room and asked her to get dressed. This took an hour for her to do, but when she came out he couldn't believe his eyes. He could never believe his eyes – he married the perfect woman and still hasn't woken up from the dream.

"Beautiful as always my darling. Isn't it a perfect day for reading?"

"Reading?"

"Yes, I have some letters you need to read."

"Joseph, I don't want to read these so-called letters."

"Clarisse."

"Alright, maybe just a couple."

"Joseph" stopped at the door of her study and watched her walk inside. He wanted to wait for her to finish reading them first before he confronted her. He felt scared, nervous and hungry. Hunger was something that always followed nervousness for him. Striding downstairs to the kitchen, he thought about how incredibly lucky he was to live in this house, this mansion. When he was younger he could only dream of living in a place like this and now he owned it. Well, half owned it.

Clarisse sat at her desk propping her glasses up on her nose and picking up the first letter. It was old looking, it was already open and it was addressed to her:

'_1st of September 1980. _

_Dear Clarisse,_

_I don't know why I'm here or what's going to happen, but I'll find out soon. The people in here keep calling me Steve, although I don't know why. Maybe I look like Steven Spielberg? Some of the people in here with me are really scary and have tattoos and earrings, you wouldn't like them I know. I'm sure I've just been put in here over some misunderstanding, so I should be out of here by tomorrow. If I'm not I just want you to know that I love you and will think of you all the time._

_Love Joseph.'_

Rasing an eyebrow and still not believing "Joseph's" story, Clarisse picked up a second letter and started to read:

'_3rd of September 1980. _

_Dear Clarisse,_

_I'm still in here, but I have no idea what I've done. They say I'm going to be in here for a long time, but I don't know how long they mean. I tried calling you today, but this man told me you weren't in – there goes the one phone call I get to make in here. Some of the men here have been giving me a hard time, do you think you could come and visit me? Seeing you would take all the pain away._

_Well, if you do happen to come, I'd be very happy. _

_Joseph.'_

'_5th of September 1980._

_I found out why I'm in here, apparently I killed a few people and held up a bank or two. I swear I didn't do it though! I know how convenient it must seem that I was around the bank at the time this supposedly took place, but I swear I didn't do it and I didn't do the other things either. I know you'll believe me because we keep no secrets from each other. I'm missing you already, the men in here were giving me a really hard time today, I was punched in the eye and called names I do not wish to repeat to you. I must have missed you yesterday when you came here because I don't recall seeing you, or didn't you come? It doesn't matter, I'll see you when I get out of here which will be when these stupid people realise I'm innocent._

_Love you.'_

As she read through the years and years of lost letters, it seemed Joseph's pain became worse. She cried over how much he missed her and how he wished she'd see him, yet she wasn't entirely certain that "Joseph" was telling the truth. He could be playing a very late April fools joke.

After she read the whole pile, the day was almost over. She had to admit she still wasn't completely satisfied and decided to ask "Joseph" about it. She walked out of the room and went to look for him, he was in the library asleep in the big comfy chair.

"Joseph?"

She shook him slightly and watched his eyes flutter open, he smiled, "Oh I must have dozed off. Did you read the letters?"

"Every single one. Is it true?"

He nodded, "I did try to tell you. Do you believe me now?"

She gave him an uncertain look and shook her shoulders, "I don't know. You could have written them yourself."

"Well, my darling, I suggest you ask the man in the cell who wrote them."

"What do you mean?"

"Go down there yourself and talk to him."

"How do I know there is a man down there?"

"By driving down and checking."

"It's too late to go now."

"Do it tomorrow then."

"If you really are telling the truth, did you really murder innocent people?"

"I'm not proud of myself for doing it, but I did."

She uncontrollably shook for a few moments before backing away from him. Keeping his distance, he followed her up to their bedroom and watched as she removed her jacket and set it down on the couch, her back turned to him. He walked up behind her and touched her shoulders, "Are you alright?"

She shuddered, "Please don't touch me."

Quickly he removed his hands and placed them by his sides, she turned around and looked at him, tears in her eyes, "Do you think you could sleep in one of the spare rooms tonight? I don't feel particularly safe sleeping with a potential murdered in my bed."

"Of course. Will you be alright in here?"

She nodded and ran her hands up and down her arms, she suddenly felt awkward being around him.

"Joseph" retreated to the room next door in order to sleep, he wondered if his wife's feelings for him had changed, tomorrow he would find out.

In the morning he awoke and walked immediately to their room, she wasn't in there. He thought she must have left for the prison already, he was right.

Meanwhile, the real Joseph lay sternly, looking up at the dirty ceiling he'd spent the past ten years studying carefully. He knew every crack on that ceiling, every bit of graffiti, every bloodstain. He watched the guards walk slowly past his cell and snared. Idiots! They're all a bunch of idiots. Suddenly he found the door being opened, "Jones, visitor. Collings, visitor. Lyell, visitor."

He sat bolt upright because – even though that wasn't his last name – he had never had a visitor. Who would be visiting him now? Quickly he walked down the corridor eager to find out who his visitor was. A guard led him into the booth and sat him down in front of a woman. Who was she? He wondered as he looked through the glass that separated them.

Clarisse stared at him in disbelief, she hardly recognised him, well it had been a while. The first thing she noticed was the large scar on the side of his face, the next thing she noticed was how incredibly buff he had gotten. She couldn't believe it was him, she was expecting it to be a practical joke from "Joseph" and that a short fat man was going to greet her, but instead she sat in utter shock at the sight before her eyes. A tear fell down her face as she picked up the phone, "Joseph? Is that you?"

Like Clarisse, he didn't know who he was sitting in front of at first, age had transformed her and she'd gained so much weight. The one thing that hadn't changed were her eyes, "Clarisse?"

"Joseph!"

"Is that really you?"

She covered her mouth and allowed a tear to roll down her cheek, "Oh my god, what have they done to you?"

"I know, I've changed a lot since our last encounter. Where have you been? I wrote you every day! Didn't you read my letters?"

"I only received them yesterday."

"What? I sent them years ago, I sent one just last week!"

"I know! But they never reached me."

"Why not?"

As she told him the story, he grew angry. He was very angry with this Steve fellow, words could not describe the hate he felt for this man he'd never met, "I'll kill him!"

Clarisse almost jumped out of her seat, "Joseph!"

"He deserves to die or at least spend the rest of his miserable life in jail!"

"I can understand why you're angry, but-"

"Get me out of here!"

"What?"

"I said get me out of here! I've been in here for twenty-five long years for something I didn't do and you can clear my name."

"I…"

She hadn't thought about the power she possessed to get him out of there, but what would he do once he got out? Get a job? Unlikely. Live with her? No, "Joseph" would never allow that. But wait a minute, "Joseph" would be out of the picture, he had done wrong, he would be put in here! She wondered how long he would survive in a prison at his age – not very. Sure he deserved to be in here, but Clarisse wasn't too sure if she wanted the man she'd spent the last decade of her life with to end up in prison. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she got up to leave, "Clarisse! Clarisse! Where are you going?"

He stood up and banged on the glass, but she couldn't hear him, "Clarisse!"

The guard who led him in there led him out again and, not for the first time in his prison life, he started crying as he was dragged kicking and screaming back to his cell.


	4. Chapter 3

Clarisse wasn't quite sure how to feel about "Joseph" now. On one hand, he had lied, cheated and landed an innocent man in prison. On the other hand, it had been him she'd shared her love with for all those years. But he didn't tell her he was a no good criminal until now, if she had known, she wouldn't have fallen for him. He was the one who deserved to be in prison rather than living in a mansion and sharing a bed with her. Closing the front door behind her, Clarisse walked to her fake husband's study and stopped at the door – what was she to say? Should she tell him to get out of her house and turn himself in? Should she tell him she thought he'd done wrong but deserved a second chance? No, he needed to be apprehended.

If he hadn't opened the door, she would have walked away without saying anything.

"Do you believe me now?"

"How could you do something like that?"

"I'm not proud of it, darling. I would have told you sooner but I was so afraid you'd hate me."

"That's your excuse?"

"Yes! I fell in love with you and couldn't bring myself to hurt you."

"Well you've hurt me now. How do you explain that?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it!"

"So what happens now?"

"What happens now? You have the gall to ask?"

He looked at the floor knowing full well she was about to inform him that they were finished, their marriage had ended. She would probably turn him in to the police, too.

"Joseph, I've always thought of myself as a reasonable woman and since you were the one who always took care of me when I was sick or upset, I'm going to give you a second chance."

His eyes lit up, "Oh Clarisse, thankyou."

He went to hug her, but she put her hand up, "No, Joseph. Not with me, I'm giving you the chance to run. Run away and never return."

"But-"

"Start a new life, a fresh life."

"What's going to happen to you?"

"I am going to get my husband back."

"Darling are you sure that's wise? I mean twenty-five years in the slammer may have impacted his mentality."

She gave him a disapproving look, "He was the one I fell in love with first, not you and I don't think it matters if he has mental problems. If our love is as strong as it was back then, everything will work out fine."

"If you say so."

As he packed his things, "Joseph" recalled all of the happy memories he had made with Clarisse, he was going to miss her like hell. He remembered how lonely he felt when she went away on a holiday with Amelia for three days, how was he going to survive the rest of his life not communicating with her? How was he going to survive the rest of his life not being with her, sleeping in a bed far, far away? He wasn't going to survive on his own, he was dependent on her love and now he had lost it. She, on the other hand would move on, it's what she's always done. She would have her old love back, she wouldn't be lonely. "Joseph" was amazed at how calmly she was handling their parting, it was as if she didn't care if he left or not.

He wasn't aware of her eyes studying him as he packed, he wasn't even aware she was in the room until he heard her footsteps drowning out as she walked off down the hallway. He wondered whether to follow her, but decided not to when he couldn't think of anything worth saying.

After packing everything neatly and tidily, he studied the suitcase. Millions of thoughts raced through his mind – what was running away going to do? He'd still feel guilty about everything. Suddenly he threw everything out of the suitcase and grabbed a photo of himself with his arms around Clarisse and then went down to the basement to fetch his old I.D cards. He went to see her one more time before he left, she was in her study staring out the window, "Clarisse, I'm leaving now."

She turned her attention to him and nodded, "Goodbye."

"That's all you can say?"

"What would you prefer me to say? Thankyou for lying to me, I really had a blast believing you were really in love with me."

"I am really in love with you."

"If that's so, then why are you leaving?"

"Because you presented the opportunity of escape, but I'm here to tell you I've decided there's no use in running if I'll never see you again. I'm going to set things right."

"Oh? How so?"

"You'll find out sooner or later."

As the door closed quietly behind him Clarisse finally allowed herself to cry, she would miss him just as much as he would her, the only difference is that she wouldn't let it show. Reluctantly "Joseph" started the car and drove down to the prison, enjoying his last moments of freedom. He walked slowly into the grey building and asked for permission to see prisoner 482EG698Y. As he sat down in the cubicle he wondered whether or not he was doing the right thing…of course he was! Her happiness could only come at the expense of his misery. The men that guarded the prisoners all looked at "Joseph" as if they knew him, in a way they did, they had seen him marry the queen on live television. However, somehow he looked familiar to them as someone they had actually met – the man known to them as Steve. "Joseph" waited anxiously for his identical other to appear, it didn't take long, he noticed as he watched the man sit down in front of him. It took a moment for both men to register, after all, it was like staring into a mirror.

"YOU!"

Joseph stood up and furiously pointed his finger at "Joseph" through the glass, "I'LL KILL YOU, YOU LIFE-SWAPPING, WIFE-STEALING SON OF A BITCH!"

The guards ran over to him and zapped him with the tazer, he cried out in pain. "Joseph" clung tightly to his seat, "Would you please calm down and listen to me?"

Joseph swung his arms about and accidentally hit an officer's face, he was zapped further causing him to break down and fall to the floor. "Joseph" watched in pure horror at what they were doing to him, he wasn't wrong to lash out, he was face to face with the man who framed him, but the officers didn't know that. "Joseph" decided that trying to talk to the man directly was of no use - he would take his case straight to the warden.

* * *

One week later…

Obediently, Steve allowed the men to escort him to his cell, the place he would be living in from now on, the place he would surely die in. There wasn't much to do in there, except wait for death to come, but how would he pass the time? The cell consisted only of a bed, a pen, some paper – lined and toilet, a shelf, a sink and a functional toilet. He lay on the bed and looked up at the ceiling – so this is how he would be spending his days from now on. Oh well, it could be worse, he could be still living with the guilt of the wrongfully imprisoned man.

Meanwhile, Joseph walked through the lobby of the prison and smiled when he saw his love waiting for him. He eagerly ran up and threw his arms around her, a little too forcefully, "Joseph! I'm very happy to see you, but would you please loosen your grip? I'm suffocating here."

"I'm sorry," he said, releasing her and looking into her eyes, "Oh god I'm so happy I can finally hold you again, it's been too long."

Clarisse was feeling a little uneasy about exchanging such greetings, she had grown apart from him over the years and he was acting as if nothing had happened. He even kissed her, she kept her eyes open wondering when he would break apart, he was kissing her too hard – she didn't remember him being so rough. However, she knew couldn't be blamed for it, prison does that to a man, it makes him not realise his own strength. Walking out into the sunset, he shielded his eyes, he was finally able to properly view the land he loved so much. A sense of freedom washed over him and he smiled genuinely for the first time in two and a half decades. Clarisse led him over to the waiting limousine and motioned for him to go inside, "Shall we pick up where we left off, your majesty?"

Faking a smile, she watched him climb in and then sat down herself, "What made you come back?"

"I realised that you are the one I belong with."

"I'm glad you did."

"So how does it feel…being out?"

"So far it's great, I never thought I would get away from the tortures of prison."

"Was it really that bad?"

"Like a thousand knives stabbing into my flesh all at once, all the time."

She cringed, "Ouch."

"That's why I'm so happy to see you now."

Once again he hugged her, tighter than she could bear, "Joseph please…"

"Aren't I allowed to show my undying affections?"

"You're going to squeeze the life out of me! Have you been working out?"

"Every day. It's occupying and stress-relieving. You need to be strong in there, that's the first lesson I learnt. You never know when someone's going to sneak up behind you and…"

Clarisse lowered her head, "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault, it's that Steve person's fault. I so want to kill him!"

"Kill Joseph…I mean Steve and you'll end up back in there."

"Which is something I don't want."

"Nor do I."

"Do you mind if I smell your neck?"

She was taken back by that remark, "What?"

He moved his head closer to hers and she became nervous, "Joseph I…think we should take things a little slower."

"Oh of course. It's just I haven't been able to breathe you in for so long and I wanted to see if you still smelt as sweet as you did all those years ago."

"How romantic, at least one thing hasn't changed."

This time she initiated the kiss, it was soft and gentle, he followed her lead, to which she was glad – it meant there was still a chance to soften him back to the way he used to be.

* * *

They arrived back at the mansion just before the sky turned pitch black, Joseph marvelled at how large and beautiful it was. The two had a long night of conversations that consisted of what had happened since their last encounter outside of prison walls. Joseph was so excited about sleeping in a comfortable bed, he hadn't experienced sleeping in anything remotely comfortable for many years. Since Clarisse felt strange having him in her bed so soon, she put him up in one of the many guest rooms, however he didn't stay there for long. Quietly he creeped down the hall to her room and went inside, she wasn't asleep either, he noticed as he closed the door behind him.

"Joseph? What are you doing up so late?"

"I can't sleep knowing you're in here alone."

"I'm fine, really."

"Clarisse?"

"Yes?"

"I don't want you to think I'm being pushy or anything, but would you mind if I held you while you slept?"

"Oh…Joseph I-"

"It doesn't matter, can I sleep on your couch? I just want to be near you."

"Oh, come here."

She pulled back the blankets and allowed him to slip under the covers with her, he smiled, it had been so long since he was last this close to a woman. If he was honest with himself, Clarisse was the last woman he ever touched before being thrown in the slammer. She didn't object to having him put his arms around her waist, in fact she put her own arms around him. It was just like old times, but better.

* * *

No, it's not finished, I think I'll just write an epilogue and then call it quits. R & R! 


	5. Epilogue

Epilogue:

It was hard for Clarisse to adjust to the old Joseph, he had changed so much physically because of the torment he suffered whilst in prison, but his heart was still the same. He was sweet, caring and very patient when it came to waiting for Clarisse to open up to him again and rekindle the fire between them. It had taken her a whole month to get used to him and another two to realise she still loved him as much as she did all those years ago. He was happier than he'd ever been, he'd spent the best years of his life behind bars and now he could finally enjoy life, he had a right to be happy.

The roughness of his touch seemed to fade away over time, which was a relief for Clarisse, as she no longer had to suffer being squeezed to death every time he hugged her or showed affection. His mind seemed calm and free, yet he still had hatred for the man who ruined his life, he wanted him dead. Of course, Clarisse often informed him of what would happen to him and indeed to them if he had anything done to Steve, so he kept his distance and decided to just let him suffer in his cell, an even worse pain.

Joseph is in high hopes that Clarisse will accept his proposal to have a legitimate marriage, something they were never able to have until now. He is planning on proposing to her over lunch tomorrow, that is unless she asks him first, which is a high possibility since she's been planning tonight for over a month.

In the dark depths of floor C, corridor 2, a beaten and bruised man leant over his desk with a pen and paper observing the candle in front of him as he thought of what to write. He had thought it over in his head a million times, how would he address her now that she knows the truth? He couldn't come out and write, _'Dear Clarisse' _he had no right. _'To Clarisse' _seemed so informal and he couldn't be informal, not with her. In the end he wrote down what he thought was most appropriate:

'_Clarisse,_

_I'm sorry I never told you about Joseph, I just loved you too much and didn't want to let you go or have you hate me. I hope you don't hate me now, I couldn't bear that especially when I'm still head over heels in love with you. I understand if you never want to see me again and I hope sending you this letter doesn't upset you, I can't bear to think of you crying. I would have written sooner, but I haven't been able to pick up the pen and write, it's not so much the fact that I find it physically hard to write, it's mentally. I fear that by writing to you, I may lose whatever respect you have for me, if any, which is something I don't want to happen._

_I don't expect you to reply to this letter, I just want you to know that I'm sorry and I really do love you.'_

He paused when it came to signing his name, what was he to call himself? He couldn't call himself Joseph because it wasn't his name to write, he couldn't call himself Steve because she didn't know him as Steve, he couldn't call himself Mr. Lyell either because despite the fact that she didn't know him by that name, it seemed too impersonal. Perhaps she didn't know him at all, nor did he, he'd had two names in his life, one was a lie, one was hidden for years, who was he really?

In the end he decided to sign the letter as simply 'Prisoner 83F039D2W'.

He stared at the sealed envelope for a whole hour wondering whether or not to rip it up and throw it in the bin with the others. Eventually he decided that it was best to let her get on with her life, to never make contact with her again. Her life was after all, no longer his concern.

The End.

* * *

Just thought I'd finish this since I've started another story and I did only say it'd be 5 chapters. Hope you enjoyed it, I had lots of trouble with this last chapter.

Seeya.

R & R.


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